


coping

by orphan_account



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Loneliness, Self-Harm, like fully described cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ouma cuts himself (the fic). this was made as a vent, it’s literally ouma cutting himself like that’s it
Kudos: 12





	coping

today had been horribly long. painfully, even, he thought as he slumped onto his bed, numb and expressionless. he didn’t like feeling like this. numb. empty. he never knew how to make himself feel things without others to help. but that was before. he knew now. he knew well. he roughly pulled up the left sleeve of his jacket, staring at the forming scabs from last night. lines upon lines, layered on top of more lines, looking like an old useless plastic chopping board. for a minute he thought, i don’t want to do this, i don’t want to cut, i don’t want more cuts, but as per usual, he had no other option. what else would make him feel something? saihara? his friends? all just fantasies. so he decided to cut again. he got the long orange boxcutter from his pencil jar and pushed out about one and a half inches of blade. then, like usual he put on a song he knew made him feel numb, so he’d forget how bad it hurt. he started his ritual. he listened to about a minute of the song, contemplating all the horrible things that had happened that day and the past few days, preparing himself for the sting to come. then when the build up of sadness was too much, he’d raise the blade a bit above his arm, apply heavy pressure, and swipe a deep cut into his arm as fast as possible. he didn’t like to look when he did it. he found it easier to cut deep when he wasn’t looking. then came the almost immediate sting. he hissed and bit the inside of his mouth, it stung worse then usual. after about 15 seconds, it went away though. he just sat with the bare cut, listening to the music. this cut was just to prepare. the next part of his ritual was probably the worst. he’d wait until a part of the song that was fast and without looking, lights off, he’d cut as many deep cuts into his arm as possible. this is what created those patterns of lines. that’s what really stung. but after that he decided he was done for tonight. some nights he might go super deep, deep enough to see white or he’d carve some self deprecating phrase/word into his thigh but tonight he was tired. he just needed to get out the emotions. he’d always cut for different reasons. after he’d cut as much as possible, he sat in listening to the music, zoning out. then he got up, heading to the bathroom, grabbing his box of gauze and medial wrap on the way. he’d start by wetting the blue hand towel he had, dabbing it against the cuts and eventually lightly scrubbing them to fully clean them. then he’d wrap gauze around his arm followed by medical wrap. finally, he slipped his sleeve down, always loving that clean fresh cut feeling. then he’d slip into bed wrapped in his blankets and feel even number than before. he knew that too. even after the cuts, he was numb. but he wasn’t going to accept that.


End file.
